


Timing

by sociologize



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 02:47:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16031375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sociologize/pseuds/sociologize
Summary: It had started off innocent enough.  Dean asking how his arm was and Seth answering truthfully, that it hurt like hell but it wasn't nothing that wouldn't clear up in a couple of days, he was fine, really.  And Dean just nodded, almost thoughtful, and that seemed to be the end of a perfectly normal conversation before:"Fell on the ropes pretty hard, though.  Want me to kiss it better?"(Some moments after the last few RAWs)





	Timing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alilyinhighgarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alilyinhighgarden/gifts).



> Takes place before Hell in the Cell 2018. Who knows, maybe I'll add to this mess later.
> 
> For alilyinhighgarden, because she's a terrible enabler.

_Monday Night Raw, August 27, 2018:_

They'd both had matches that night; Seth's arm still throbbed and ached where he held it cradled against his chest, and Dean was still vibrating with manic energy, even if he was far more still than he used to be, sat on a bench rather than dancing around the room.  Roman had just left for his own match, and while there were concerns about the whole damn thing - the combination of adrenaline and exhaustion dulled it for now, at least until the match started.

It had started off innocent enough.  Dean asking how his arm was and Seth answering truthfully, that it hurt like hell but it wasn't nothing that wouldn't clear up in a couple of days, he was _fine_ , really.  And Dean just nodded, almost thoughtful, and that seemed to be the end of a perfectly normal conversation before:

"Fell on the ropes pretty hard, though.  Want me to kiss it better?"

Like that was _also_ a perfectly normal part of the conversation.  And okay, maybe it was sometimes, but Seth was still riding high from his win over Kevin Owens, still riding the high that came from Dean being _back_ .  Seth narrowed his eyes, briefly darting them over to the TV as Ziggler and McIntyre made their entrance - it was a bad idea.  Roman might need the back-up, they couldn't afford to be distracted, not when the whole match screamed _set-up_ to Seth -

He took the bait anyway.."Yeah.  Yeah, actually, I do."

Dean had the presence of mind to at least turn the television up before he was suddenly on his knees in front of Seth, eyes twinkling as he went for his belt.  Seth huffed out a laugh, already a little breathless, and obediently lifted his hips as Dean tugged his tights down over his hips. At best this was going to be a quick preview of later, when they had more time and were back at the hotel, probably with the roles reversed given how Seth just couldn't keep his hands off Dean as of late, but -

He still couldn't help himself, stopping Dean for just a moment to lean down and press their lips together, press his hand against his cheek and savor it for a few seconds.  Dean didn't seem to mind, leaning up into it to make it last just that much longer.

"Kinda busy here." He mumbled, but didn't pull away.

"Oh, my bad." Seth murmured back, and he nipped at Dean's lip before he was the one to finally sit back.  He was grinning. "Carry on."

Dean actually _scoffed_ at him, and Seth couldn't help but laugh - before it was cut off with a gasp as Dean took him into his mouth, wasting no time getting to work.  Apparently he too remembered they had to be quick about this, and Seth made a mental note to draw this out later before he couldn't think at all.

For all that Dean was talented with a microphone, he was talented in _other_ ways with his mouth.  Every swipe of his tongue and pull of his lips against Seth's cock took him apart, wringing noises out of Seth he forgot he could make and would be embarrassed about later. He must've said as much at one point, because Dean just hummed, smug and pleased, and Seth nearly lost it right there, his other hand coming to grasp at Dean's shoulder, the movement making him hiss as he jarred his bad arm.

Which was no good, and Dean agreed, because he found his wrist grabbed and pressed to his hip, Dean briefly pulling back to look up at him.  "Keep it there." And then he was on Seth's dick again before Seth could even protest and he was damn thankful they always grabbed a locker room away from everyone else, because the moan that slipped out was just a bit louder than he would've liked.

He was almost there, toes curling and breath coming in hard pants, Dean relentless with his mouth and now his hand, when he suddenly broke off and leaned back, panting a little himself and glanced at the television.  Seth bit back a protest and braced his hand on Dean's shoulder as he gasped, but his eyes were drawn to the television as well.

" _Fuck_."  Dean hissed, immediately jumping to his feet.  He hesitated only briefly, glancing at Seth, almost apologetic.

"Go."  Seth waved him off, breathless, struggling to his feet and trying to get his pants up at the same time.  "I'll be right behind you."

Dean was out the door before Seth could grab his shirt.

\--

For all that Dean and Seth claimed to know each other back and front, Roman knew his boys just as well.  He could tell, from the slant of their shoulders and the stiffness in their backs, that they were _pissed_ as they headed backstage.  Which - he couldn't blame them, he was pissed too, probably more so than they were.  But when they hit the locker room and Dean started pacing around like he used to, muttering curses and death threats under his breath, and even Seth couldn't sit still, packing up his bag one-handed after changing into his street clothes and then pacing back forth, arm still tucked close -

Neither of them were moving for the showers, which they normally did.  They were exchanging looks that Roman could read as they were speaking aloud.  He took a seat near his bag and took his time pulling out his towel, his change of clothes, almost thoughtfully.

He watched Seth walk by again, pause to go through his bag and yank out a hat and shove it down on his head; watched Dean watch _Seth_ and his jaw tighten, then stomp over to his own bag to finally change.  He knew this, he'd seen it years ago, and that he was seeing it now, after everything they'd all gone through, done to each other - he couldn't help but burst into laughter.

Seth and Dean both stopped and looked at him like he'd lost his damned mind.

"What the fuck?"

"Roman?  You all right?"

"I'm sorry Braun and his boys interrupted whatever it was you two were getting up to back here."  Roman didn't bother to hide his grin, and he knew his guess was right by the caught, guilty look on Seth's face and the way Dean straightened up, chin raised, almost daring him to say something else.  He kept going before Dean could snap at him. "Go ahead without me, I can catch a ride back with someone else."

"I don't - we can wait, it's fine."  Seth was the one who answered, and Roman bit back another laugh at the effort Seth put into sounding like he meant it.  Dean shot him a look, turned to give Roman another, then rolled his eyes and picked up his bag.

"Do you really want to wait for him and Disney princess routine to finish up?"  Dean asked, blunt as ever, and Roman didn't hide the snicker this time. Nor did he take offense; he opened this door, may as well take any shots thrown at him fair and square.

"But - "

"You boys are practically climbing the walls, any longer and who knows what you two will do when my back's turned --"

" _Roman_."

"Yep, okay, that's it." Dean said over the two of them, snatching up Seth's bag and holding both in one hand while he grabbed Seth's good arm and practically dragged him out of the room. "See ya Ro, knock first, we'll be busy."  
  
Seth scrambled to follow, throwing a half-hearted glare over his shoulder at a laughing Roman.  He pointed at him as best he could before he was dragged out of the room. "I'm stealing all your pillows."  Was his parting shot before the door slammed shut.

 

_September 3, 2018_

Tradition stated that after (most) shows, they got back to the hotel, showered if they hadn't had time at the arena, and did whatever.  "Whatever" included everything from eating to watching stupid action movies or late night TV to sex to all of the above. It was a tradition that started way back when they first teamed together and had been revived last year, when the past had been buried and they'd finally reunited to the sounds of thousands of screaming fans. 

Of course, sometimes things got in the way of tradition.  Staying late at the arena was one of those things, and probably the worst offender of them all.  While it was rare that either of them had to stay late, injuries notwithstanding, sometimes it happened.  Sometimes, half the roster decides to team up with _Braun Strowman_ of all people and your partner ends up getting thrown through a damn window after three of you get arrested on bullshit charges. 

The trainer's room isn't small, but with the trainers and three full-sized wrestlers packed in there the space is a hell of a lot tinier than it's meant to be, and there's not enough room for Dean to pace.  Of course of the three of them he'd come out the least beaten up, and now he was the one left with the well of energy, trying to spend it by pacing up and down between the beds, fingers tapping rapidly against his collarbone in a way neither Seth or Roman had seen since he'd left last year.  It was almost a relief, as much as a worry. 

As for his boys, Roman's sat on one of the beds, an icepack pressed to his face, muttering in low tones to the trainer insisting he was fine.  Dean could see the bruises popping up on his back with Roman's gear gone, from the powerslam and the steps and the ring apron, and the rhythmic tapping of his fingers increased briefly for a few moments. 

Seth was on another bed, curled up on his side.  If Roman hadn't taken the brunt of things, then Seth had. He hadn't needed stitches, but Dean had seen the blood, had seen the impact of the door against Seth's face, and he was lucky he didn't have a damn concussion.  The trainers had looked him over first for that reason, concerned about the blood and the impact and by the grace of whatever, it had looked worse than it was. Seth was fucking lucky. 

"Ambrose,"  One of the trainers started, ad he whirled on them, eyes narrowed.  The trainer paused and gulped. "Are you sure you're --" 

"I'm _fine_."  He grounded out, growled in a tone they were more than familiar with from his past visits.  He didn't need them bothering with him when he was obviously well enough to stomp around being pissed off.  The trainer seemed to agree because he held up his hands with a nod before turning back to Roman. Roman shot him a sympathetic look and a brief smile before his attentions were drawn away, leaving Dean to resume his pacing. 

Or he would, had Seth not caught him as he passed, fingers catching in his pant leg and tugging.   

"Dean."  He said, voice uncharacteristically quiet.  It wasn't needy, there was nothing in his tone but his name, but Dean saw it for what it was.  He'd once said that Seth Rollins was kind of his thing; it went the other way around, too. He may not have been hurting physically, but it still _hurt_ , his pride and his heart and Seth could see that.  As much as he hated it. 

With a huff, Dean carefully flopped down to sit on the bed Seth occupied, Seth scooting back enough to give him room.  All the manic energy still buzzing in his head subsided for the moment - it'd be back, he knew, as soon as they were set free, and it'd be a long night before he'd even hope to get even an hour's sleep later, but - 

Seth quirked a smile, the one Dean knew would be a lot more smug (the one that said he always got what he wanted) had he felt up to it, and Dean found himself reaching down for Seth's hand, still hooked in his pant leg.  Seth gave it a squeeze and pulled it closer to himself, eyes shutting as he listened to the trainers bustle around Roman. Words weren't really needed, and neither of them were the type to really _seek_ comfort after shit like this, but - it was nice, regardless.  Grounding. Seth's thumb idly running along the side of his hand and his own tightening just a little in his grasp, and he felt something close to calm for the first time all night. 

"There goes our plans for later."  Seth murmured, surprising Dean into a quiet laugh. 

"Next time." Dean whispered back, and ignored the overdramatic, long-suffering look Roman was giving them both from across the room.

 

_September 10, 2018_  

Tonight was _their_ night.  This time they went in with a solid plan and a number of back-up plans, just in case, carefully crafted in the event of anything going sideways.  They'd be insulted, mocked, and made an embarrassment of last week. It _wouldn't_ happen this week. 

And it was working from the get-go.  Taking out the assholes who'd fucked with them last Monday, axe handles in hand, had been way more satisfying than he was willing to admit.  That had been Dean's idea, and at the look on his face when it had been suggested, Seth couldn't turn it down, so he worked it into the plan right there.  And Corbin's _face_ when he was being read his rights - Seth almost wished he'd let the whole thing go down, just for the utter satisfaction of sticking one to the acting GM for all the shit he had been putting them through and inevitably would put them through in the coming weeks.  But a chance at the tag titles, a chance to be tag champs again with Dean was a little more important, and now they had it. Hell in a Cell, a chance to reclaim what had been taken from them last year, and it was long overdue. 

Of course with them reappearing, it meant Roman had some of his own unfinished business, and as Braun took the the ring to call him out, the Samoan rolled his eyes and pushed to his feet.  "Guess it's my turn." He rumbled, and gave his boys a grin - just a tiny bit strained, and neither of them could blame him because facing Strowman would make _anyone_ worried - and left Seth and Dean to watch on the television once again. 

"Think we should follow?"  Dean asked, and even though he was sitting down he couldn't sit still, leg bouncing and fingers opening and closing into a fist.  He was itching for a fight, as though what they'd already gotten into tonight wasn't enough. 

Seth gave the television a long look before he slowly shook his head.  "This is Roman's business." He says slowly. "Like earlier was just ours.  If Braun's buddies show up, that's different, but - " He purses his lips, then shakes his head.  "Think we're done for the night." 

"Hm."  Seth still had his eyes on the television, Braun center of the ring with a mic and about to call Roman out, when he was suddenly dragged to his feet, hands on his hips, and bodily shoved back against the lockers behind him.  Whatever protest on his lips died when Dean swooped in to kiss him, and immediately his hands latched into Dean's shirt, tugging him closer even though it was impossible to get him any closer than he actually was. 

They didn't break apart for what felt like forever, until Seth was left gasping and breathless, forehead pressed against Dean's shoulder, and Dean not faring much better.  But he was laughing quietly as he nosed behind Seth's ear, his hands sliding up, underneath Seth's shirt. 

"What are you doing?" He finally managed to ask, like it wasn't completely obvious. 

Dean's answer was a snort, warm hands moving up his side, tracing skin before coming back down to his belt.  "What do you _think_ I'm doing?" He countered. 

Seth bit his lip, hard, as Dean purposely pressed his fingers against him in his haste to get his belt out of the way, and Seth couldn't help but push into it.  "I think," He managed, after taking a deep breath. "You're asking for us to get interrupted again." 

He said it as light as he could manage, because that night had been anything but light.  Being interrupted, then being beaten down in the ring, one by one, it hadn't been their best night.  And the last thing he wanted was a repeat of that, especially with Roman tempting fate by going out to answer the monster's call. 

" _I_ think," Dean shoved Seth's gear down over his hips, causing him to shiver, then again as Dean kissed behind his ear and drew back.  "You're thinking too much, and that you should shut up and let me suck your dick before you jinx us." 

"Trying to make up for last time?"  He asked, as Dean's hands slipped out of his shirt as he sunk to his knees, and Seth's hands found their way to his hair.  It was much shorter now but he still brushed it back, fingers almost restless if the were still too long. It was always like that, when Seth was with Dean like this, the need to _touch_ , no matter how brief.   

Dean glanced up at him, cheek dimplying as he nosed at Seth's thigh, grinning at the sharp intake of breath it earned.  "Could say that." He answered, nudging Seth's legs apart some. "Or maybe I'm gonna make it so great you forget last time even happened." 

"Christ."  Seth half-gasped, half-laughed as Dean's fingers curled around him, as he leaned in and breathed over the head of his cock, and he let his head fall back against the locker.  He could still hear the TV, faintly across the room, Braun was winding down from whatever the hell he was saying, surely Roman would be coming out soon and then of course they'd fight - 

"Dare you."  Yep, that was him saying that.  His brain working on half-power, fully focused on Dean down between his legs, about to give him - a makeup blowjob?  A better one? Who even knew anymore. Whatever was about to happen, Seth was going to love it, and then he'd return the favor and then both of them would forget the other week even happened - and maybe even last week too, if they were lucky. 

Dean grinned, all teeth,and a lifetime ago if Seth had seen that grin he'd have known he was in for a world of danger, of pain and suffering only Dean Ambrose could come up with in that mess he called a head.  Now? It sent a violent shiver down his spine, a noise caught in his throat at the thought of what that mouth was about to do to him. 

Dean seemed to notice, because the grin widened.  "Challenge accepted."


End file.
